Murdered by Country Music: A High Desert Cozy Mystery

by Dianne Harman

  “I think it’s probably a good idea if Laura doesn’t go with you for that very reason, although selfishly I’d like to see someone else go with you for protection. A murder has been committed, and we don’t know who did it. For all we know it could have been Ned’s wife. Do me a favor and take your gun with you. Don’t say anything. I know what you’re thinking, but I’ve been involved in this game a lot longer than you have, and strange things happen when there’s been a murder. Just humor me, okay?”

  “All right, but I really don’t like to carry a gun in my purse.”

  “In this case, I don’t care whether you like it or not. It could save your life, so please just learn to like it. I really do want to be married to you, and if you’re a corpse, that won’t be possible.”

  “That’s a cheery thought,” Marty said. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. When do you plan on visiting Mrs. Billings?”

  “I was thinking I’d go over there around noon. I’m assuming Ned will continue to use the French Food Obsession truck to feed people at lunch time, however a thought just occurred to me. Did you learn from the sheriff if Jacques had a Will? I wonder what the legal status of the truck is right now? Since Jacques has a child and evidently he’s not currently married, does that mean the child will inherit the truck, and if so, would it be sold?”

  “I don’t know. Good question, Marty, but like you, I imagine Ned will be selling lunch today, and while he’s gone it would be a good time to go over to his house. Another thing to consider is we don’t know what the business arrangement was between Jacques and Ned. Ned may be a part-owner of the truck and there might be an agreement that if something happened to one or the other of them, the survivor would own the truck. As a matter of fact, there’s a lot we don’t know. Guess time will tell.”

  “I hadn’t even thought of that. I simply assumed Ned went ahead with the food at the festival because it was already scheduled, but if he opens the truck for business today, he might be the last man standing so to speak, or the full owner of the truck.”

  “I’ll call the sheriff and see if he’s found out anything new on the case. I’ll make a special point to ask him about the business relationship between the two of them and if a Will has been found. I’m sure they must have searched Jacques’ home by now. Maybe they found one there. I’ve got another call I have to take. When you get through with your meeting, I’d like to hear what happened.”

  “Will do. I love you. Talk to you later,” Marty said as she ended the call.

  She got out of bed, put on her robe, and motioned for Duke to follow her, pink booties in hand. When she was coming back from walking Duke she saw that the door to Laura’s house was open. “Laura, it’s me. Okay if I come in? I need to talk to you for a minute.”

  She heard Laura’s voice coming from the far end of her small home. “Sure, I’m back in the bedroom. Come on in.”

  Marty and Duke walked down the short hall and she said, “Laura, I’ve been thinking it might defeat our purpose of calling on Rita Billings if both us are there. She might feel intimidated. I think it would be better if I went by myself.”

  “Great minds think alike or something like that. Couldn’t agree more. I woke up this morning and thought the same thing.”

  “You said you can often tell certain things about a person by talking to them. What should I look for?” Marty asked.

  “There are some basic body language things that will tell you a lot. Some of the common signs of lying are talking really fast, rapidly changing body positions, or talking too much. A couple of others are if a person stares at you without blinking or won’t look you in the eye. Another one is when a person crosses their arms over their chest. That indicates they may feel vulnerable or they’re rejecting what you’re saying. Those are the biggies. Just make a mental note of anything she does that you might consider to be the slightest bit out of the ordinary.”

  “Okay, I can do that. I’ve never thought much about the subtleties of body language, but I guess from what you’re saying there’s a lot to it.”

  “It’s huge, and I think what makes it so interesting and relevant is people do these things subconsciously. They may be saying one thing, but their body language indicates something entirely different. Do you want me to watch Duke while you’re gone? I’ll be here all day.”

  “Thanks. That would be great. Jeff called and gave me Rita Billings’ address. Evidently they live in an older part of downtown Palm Springs. I’m curious about her. She must really love her husband to put up with his years of drug abuse. Don’t think I could do it.”

  “Fortunately, I don’t think you’ll have to, what with Jeff being as opposed to drugs as he is.”

  “Yes, that’s a blessing in today’s world. Particularly after what all of us saw this weekend. I need to stop by John’s. I’ve got a question for him. I’ll fill you in when I get back this afternoon. I’m leaving around 11:30.”

  Marty knocked on John’s door and said, “John, it’s Marty. Okay if I come in?” She knew he was usually cooking in the morning preparing for the lunch crowd who’d be waiting for The Red Pony to show up.

  “Sure, Marty, the door’s open, come on in.”

  She saw him bent over the kitchen counter cutting out dough. “What are you doing? That looks interesting.”

  “I’m making mini pizzas. I buy the refrigerated pizza dough and use a round cookie cutter, spread a little pizza sauce on each one, and top them with a bunch of different things. Some people like to buy a plate of them and others just like a couple. I’ve found them to be really popular, and they’re so easy to fix.”

  Max was standing nearby, stirring a big pot on the stove. “What’s in the pot, Max? Sure smells good.”

  “Got a big batch of chili in here. It’s weird, but the weather turned kinda cold and really windy last night. Don’t happen very often this time of year, but it’s desert cold out there now. Anyway, when I got here this mornin’ I talked the boss into lettin’ me make chili and cornbread and servin’ it at the Pony today. When those people leave their offices for lunch, and it’s blustery cold, they’re gonna be real happy to have a steamin’ hot bowl of chili they can chow down and it’ll make their tummies warm.”

  “You sleep as well as we did last night?” John asked.

  “It may go down as one of the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had. John, I can see you’re really busy, but I have a question for you if you don’t mind. Do you have any idea what the business arrangement was between Jacques and Ned? Particularly in regard to the food truck? And lastly, do you expect it will be parked today where it’s been parked the last few months at lunch time?”

  John looked up from cutting his mini-pizzas. “Interesting questions. I’ll answer the last one first. I’d be willing to bet my first born, if I had one, that Ned will be there. He and Jacques have done well taking my overflow and when the lines are long at the Pony, I’ve noticed that people tend to eat at their truck rather than taking the time to go into a restaurant, order, and wait for their food.

  “As far as the status of their business relationship, the only thing I know is once I heard Ned call Jacques his partner. I remember it because I thought at the time it was interesting because as arrogant as Jacques was I was surprised he’d even have a partner. Ned specifically said, ‘Hey partner, you need to get back here. There’s a call for you on your cell phone. Want me to get it?’ That’s all I know about their business relationship. As far as the truck goes, the thought occurred to me this morning that if they were partners, Ned probably would get the truck. Does that help?”

  “I don’t know. I was just curious. Thanks a lot and good luck today. See you this evening. Oh, one more thing. Are you serving something tonight that I should think about all day?” Marty asked, laughing. Long before she’d moved into the compound, John had lived there and generally prepared the evening meals for the compound residents in exchange for a modest monthly payment they each made to him to pay for the food
. He kept telling them that since they served as his tasters for new dishes, he shouldn’t be paid for the meals, but all of them felt more comfortable compensating him for the amount of time he spent on their meals. It was a win-win situation for everyone.

  “If you like the smell of the chili, you’ll probably like dinner. I told Max to make a bigger batch than usual and keep plenty here for dinner tonight. He also made an extra batch of honey cornbread. I think you’ll be happy.”

  “Trust me, I’m already happy,” she said as she walked out the door.

  CHAPTER 16

  Much as she hated to, Marty went to the locked desk drawer where she kept her small pistol and put it in her purse. She took Duke out for a commune with nature and then she looked on Google maps for the location of the address Jeff had given her for Rita Billings.

  Downtown Palm Springs was about a thirty-minute drive from the compound. The residents of the compound all liked the quiet solitude of living in a rural area away from Palm Springs which oftentimes provided a second home for the wealthy and a place where the snowbirds gathered in the winter. The wealthy homeowners of the city were the main reason Marty’s appraisal business had done so well in the short time she’d lived in the area. Wealthy people tended to surround themselves with things of value and insurance companies often required appraisals before they would insure them, all of which was a very good thing for Marty.

  She waved to John and Max as they pulled out of the driveway in the Pony. A half hour later she found the address Jeff had given her and parked her car at the curb in front of the house. When she looked at the house her first thought was it reminded her of a woman who had been beautiful when she was younger but hadn’t aged well at all. The lawn was nothing but dried grass. Withered flowers peeked out of pots next to the front door whose blue coat of paint was peeling. The shutters next to the windows needed to be remounted, and the driveway was filled with holes and cracks. Lonely weeds had sprung to life in them. She couldn’t help but wonder about the people who lived in the house, based on its exterior.

  Marty walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell which had pulled loose from its frame and was hanging on a thin wire next to the front door. The door was open and through the screen Marty could see flickering figures on a television screen. A few moments later a woman came to the door and said, “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m looking for Rita Billings. Are you Rita?”

  “Maybe I am, and maybe I’m not. Why do you want to know?”

  “As you’re probably aware, Jacques Ruchon was recently murdered. Although I’m not with the sheriff’s department, I’m helping some law enforcement personnel get information about him. We know your husband was working with him. If you have a minute, I’d like to talk to you.”

  The woman was clearly hesitant to let Marty in, but finally she said, “I’m Rita. I don’t think there’s anything I can tell you about Jacques, but come on in. I can’t talk too long. I’m a hairdresser, and I have several clients coming to the shop this afternoon. I just came home for lunch.”

  Marty walked in and said, “Thanks. I appreciate this. I won’t keep you long. I was wondering if your husband and Jacques were partners?”

  “Yeah. Ned fronted the money for the food truck when Jacques asked Ned to work for him. Jacques didn’t have the money for the French Food Obsession. Jacques was the front man, because he’d been a big deal chef with a television show at one point, but between drugs and child support, he was busted. Ned thought the French food truck idea was a good one, and it’s turned out to be pretty successful.”

  “So with Jacques’ death, your husband will be the sole owner of the French Food Obsession truck.”

  “That’s what Ned tells me.”

  “Mrs. Billings, do you have any idea who might have killed Jacques.”

  She paused for a moment and looked away from Marty. Marty remembered what her sister had told her about people who wouldn’t make eye contact. She wondered if what she was going to say next was a lie.

  “I have no idea, but you might want to start with whoever Jacques was getting his drugs from.”

  “I’m sorry,” Marty said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Nothing, I didn’t mean anything,” Rita said.

  “I’ve heard Jacques used to do drugs. I also heard he was fired from his television show because of it. Is there any truth to that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you know him well?” Marty asked. She was interrupted by the ringing of Rita’s cell phone.

  “Excuse me,” Rita said, “This won’t take long.” Rita walked into the hall and even though she was speaking quietly into the phone, Marty was able to overhear what she said. When Rita returned she said, “I’m sorry, but I needed to take that call. Now where were we?”

  “I asked you if you knew Jacques well.”

  “Let me answer, and then I really do need to get back to work. Jacques, Ned, and I used to do drugs together at night after Jacques and Ned were through cooking at whatever restaurant where they were working. That’s how they met. They became very good friends. I became pregnant and lost the baby because of my drug use during the pregnancy. The drugs caused me to have extremely high blood pressure which resulted in the baby being stillborn when I was 8 ½ months pregnant. I was devastated. I made a vow to join Narcotics Anonymous and get clean, which I did. I haven’t done drugs since then. I eventually got both Jacques and Ned to join as well. It’s not a pretty story, but at least that part of our life is over.

  “Ned is very faithful about attending NA meetings. He goes almost daily. That was his sponsor on the phone, and he was curious why Ned hadn’t been to the regular meetings this weekend. I told him about the festival and that Ned would be returning to the meetings today or tomorrow.” She stood up indicating it was time for Marty to leave.

  “Rita, if you think of something that could be relevant to the case, I’d really appreciate it if you’d call me. Here’s my phone number.” While Marty was writing it down her eyes slid over to the phone Rita had put on the kitchen counter, and she saw the name of the person that had called Rita, Chuck Weston, displayed on the phone.

  Laura was right. Rita lied to me. I know she lied to me about the phone call because I could hear her end of it and she never said Ned was at the food festival, but what she did say was pretty strange. I’ll have to see if Jeff can make sense of it when he comes for dinner tonight.

  Marty thanked Rita again for her time and walked out to her car. She looked at her watch and decided she had time to stop by her friend Carl Mitchell’s antique shop. He always had a number of California Impressionist paintings for sale and with the Jeb Rhodes appraisal coming up in the next week or so, it would give her a head start on her valuations.

  A few minutes later she walked into the shop and saw Carl finishing up a sale with a customer. He smiled at her and said, “Be with you in a minute Marty. Take a look around.”

  “That’s why I’m here. Don’t hurry on my account.” She spent the next few minutes examining the California Impressionist paintings hanging on one of the walls in the antique shop. As she looked at them she decided that while they were very good, the ones hanging in Jeb Rhodes’ ranch house were better.

  “So Marty, what brings you in today? Involved in another appraisal that just happens to have a murder attached to it?” he asked laughing. Carl had helped her on a couple of occasions when her appraisals had also been a very important part of solving a murder case. Every time he saw her he commented on the appraisal he’d helped her with when Laura had used her psychic powers along with a knife to slice open a wig stand and find a missing diamond ring.

  “Yes and no. I’m going to be doing an appraisal of California Impressionist paintings along with some other Western and Native American objects, and I wanted to get a leg up, so to speak, by seeing what you had. You’ve got some really good ones on display.”

  “I’ve kind of developed a reputation for that type of ar
t and you know how it is, people talk. When someone wants to sell a piece of that type of art, they come to me, and by the same token, when they want to buy that type, they come to me.”

  “After I do the appraisal, I’ll bring in lunch one day in return for you looking at photos of the pieces and giving me your opinion.”

  “Happy to do it, Marty, but with your eye I don’t think it’s necessary.”

  “It may not be necessary, but I’d feel better if you did.” A thought occurred to her, and she continued, “Carl, didn’t you tell me once that your brother had been greatly helped by the support he got from Narcotics Anonymous?”

  “Yes, but I fail to see what that has to do with Impressionist paintings. Am I missing something?”

  “No. It has absolutely nothing to do with them,” she said laughing. “I just had a conversation with a woman about the organization and how much it had helped her. I guess it made me think of your brother.”

  “I know what you mean. I do that all the time. I’m thinking of one thing, and it leads to another and so on and so on.”

  “Carl, I’d like to get in touch with a man who’s in NA. Do you think your brother could help me with that?”

  “I don’t know. It’s an organization that, like Alcoholics Anonymous, is pretty much based on anonymity, but if you have the name of someone, that’s not being anonymous. What’s his name?”

  “The name of the man I’d like to get in touch with is Chuck Weston.”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell with me, but that’s no surprise. I’ll give Pete a call tonight and see if he knows him. Mind if I ask why? You don’t strike me as a person who has a drug problem.”